Learning from Dutch
Most of you probably know about our window scare. Dutch fell halfway out of his second story window (above concrete) on Sunday, pushed the screen out and fell halfway (waist up) when we heard him scream and Jeff ran upstairs and grabbed him before he fell all the way out. It was awful, horrific–I was hysterical, he was hysterical. All in all it was a very good wake up call for us–to cherish every moment with our son, not take things for granted, realize–with a healthy fear of God–that everything can be gone in the blink of an eye.
Perhaps that’s why I’m trying to savor a little more the moments with Dutch. You see, I have been struggling in the area of mommyhood when it comes to Dutch. He is a steel-willed child, and between our busy schedule, women’s ministry things, getting moved in, and just the stuff of life, I’ve had more than one moment where I’ve just felt like shaking his little self and saying, “Really?! Really, do you have to contradict everything I say? Does everything have to be a battle?!” And then of course the window-scare happened and though I still find myself having plenty wits-end moments (today at Bridgeport, where I had to carry both children in arms –Dutch throwing a fit over my shoulder and Heidi smashed in the front pack without making a peep– from the Container Store all the way to Bed Bath & Beyond), I can’t even imagine life without my boy. He makes my life. I kiss him a hundred times a day, on that soft part of his cheek right by his lips so I can smell his amazing little puppy breath. I still squeeze his buns everytime I pick him up (and think about how nice it will be when we’re down to only one in diapers!). I love having conversations with him, listening to his amazing creativity as he plays make-believe around the house. Here are a few of my favorite Dutch thoughts of late:
(When I put on a dress for church). “Mommy, what’s that you got on?”
“A dress, Dutch.”
“It’s pretty.”
(I smile) “Thank you, Dutch!”
“Mommy, you fancy!” (heart melting!)
Ok, this one’s not so sweet, just odd:
(As I’m changing his diaper) “I like Papa!” (I smile, so glad that my son loves my dad. Then he continues. “I like poop too!”
Unfortunately he continues to think that shouting “I eat poop for dinner!” then laughing hysterically and saying, “That’s SO funny!” is the greatest thing in the world. Oh dear. Apparently he’s hit middle-school early.
Tonight his prayers, as silly and immature as they might seem, touched my heart. As we lay in bed we started to pray and I asked him what he wanted to thank God for. “Umm…” he thought. He had his toy van in his hand. “Dada God, Kant Nu (thank you) for my van.” Ok, that’s a start, what else Dutch? He turns it over in his hand. “Dada God, kant nu for the front of my van.” Ok, what else Dutch? “Dada God, kant nu for the side of my van.” This continues… “kant nu for the back of my van…kant nu for the windshield…kant nu for the motor…kant nu for the bumper…” No joke. He names every part of the ridiculous plastic van.
I’m lying there thinking of the amazing life this little boy has, of the friendships, the family, the new house, the wonderful fun things we do every day, and all he can thank God for is every little detail of his silly plastic van that we got at a garage sale for 25 cents last week. In a way, though, it’s precious, because he’s choosing to thank God for what’s right in front of him. Perhaps it’s narrow-minded, perhaps it’s not good perspective, but if the point of thanksgiving is to focus in on the blessings GOd has given us, if the point is to cultivate an attention to the richness of life, if the point is to become thankful people–then perhaps naming every single part of silly plastic van in our hands is really a pretty good idea. It doesn’t mean I’m not thankful for the larger things, for the majestic mountains and vast oceans and the beauty of this valley and the glorious things God is doing in this world. It just means that maybe it’s ok for me to sit here and thank him for the ice cream I had tonight, the way Heidi laughed out loud as she played with a sippy cup of water for the first time, for the built-in bookshelves that my dad made us, for the way that the pink knobs on Heidi’s dresser turned out after I painted them, for sitting on our porch swing in the cool fall air, for the sweet gathering of women I was part of last night, for the unexpected escrow refund check we received, for the beautiful pots of flowers delivered unexpectedly from a generous friend, for Mac eyeliner, for the MIRACLE that Dutch put all of his toys away and took a bath and went to bed without a fight tonight … I really could go on forever.
Really that’s the same as Dutch thanking for the bumper on his plastic van. Very unremarkable, very temporal. And yet he’s thankful for it, and for that I’m thankful. And I’m thankful he’s alive, and I’m thankful for what he teaches me each day … even if it’s that I’m never taking him to the Container Store again. Goodnight, friends. Let’s go to bed thankful tonight.
I don't want to waste my life.
I know…it’s been a week since I’ve written anything here. I promise I am alive and well it has just been a CRAZY busy week, as you can well imagine. God is so funny and smart because He throws everything at us at once so we will get on our faces and cry out to Him. This post is not about that but let’s just say last week Monday drove to Portland and signed docs on our house at 7am, Jeff then went to work and I did our final walk through at 9am, Jeff worked a full day (our new Youth Pastor’s first day), then we got our keys (tada!!) and got to get into our new house at 4pm, then I finished packing, showered, got pizzas, delivered the kids to my parents, then got to church at 6pm and taught Bible study at 7 (during this time Jeff had the moving team moving us into the new house), got home at 8:30pm. The next morning got up at 6am, discovered none of my clothes had gotten moved and I didn’t have my apartment key, so I tore open boxes and found a winter sweater to pair with the pants I’d worn the night before, got to church at 8am for worship practice (Heidi in tow), played worship, taught Bible study at 9am, got home a little before noon just as Mom and Dad brought Dutch back home, and then began the weeklong unpacking.
Now, just to be sure this is clear–I am overwhelmed with how amazing our house is. I don’t want to say I love it because I’m being careful about how I use that word these days. But I ENJOY our house beyond measure. It is like God built it just for us (he did). It’s been fun unpacking things I haven’t seen for almost 2 1/2 years and finding that they match and fit in perfectly to this house. It’s also been a blast for Dutch unpacking books and toys he hasn’t seen for ages; it’s like Christmas! It’s also a HUGE blessing having a yard! My boy finally has a yard! And, the cool part is that it’s not landscaped so it’s just dirt/mud and straw, which means I can put him in his grubbies and boots and set him free to dig, build, drive his dump trucks, and just get filthy without worrying about messing anything up. My outdoor boy can finally be outdoors! So that’s wonderful. It’s been hectic because you forget that a new house needs about a thousand little things–dryer vent, fridge hose, WINDOW COVERINGS (yikes! sheets and tacks right now). And I feel like my unpacking is at a snail’s pace because I have these two wonderful little crazy munchkins who leave me with about 5 or 6 free minutes a day (ok, exaggeration–that’s how it feels). Anyway, it’s been a gloriously crazy week.
But by Friday, even though the week was filled with wonderful things, I was TIRED. The kind of tired that’s not just physical, but where I felt so completely emotionally and spiritually and physically SPENT. Everything seemed to take extra effort–the kids haven’t been sleeping all that well (back to the window coverings), and when I get that tired, my default isn’t to slow down, it is to just keep chugging forward…but without love.
And I found myself SO frustrated with Dutch. I tell you–that boy. That boy that boy that boy. I love him to pieces, I do. But do any other moms just have those days that they think (ok this sounds horrible), “I can’t stand this crazy kid! Will he EVER STOP TALKING? Will he EVER stop contradicting everything I say? Does EVERYTHING have to be a battle? How does he KNOW exactly how to do the thing I don’t want him to do?” I admitted to Jeff, “Ok this sounds horrible. But is it bad that I just wish our kids would sleep all day long, just for one day, so I could have some time to myself?”
So last night I get to church, and Joel preaches on 1 Corinthians 13:1-3, and even though I’d been reading that passage all week long for women’s Bible study, the way he taught it hit me so hard. Basically, we can be successful teachers, leading people, we have have stuff, we can be influential, we can be mighty for God, and yet if we don’t have LOVE, if it’s not from a heart of LOVE, if we don’t simply just have love, then it’s a WASTED LIFE. Ouch.
And this is what ouched me. I realized that I can train our children to be perfectly obedient, and never train them to love. I can train them to obey every time, and can still have WASTED every ounce of my parenting energy. I have to LOVE them. I have to train them to LOVE. And my tearful cry to God was basically how I get to tired because I feel like everyone (exaggeration again–describing feeligns here) draws from my love stores. My kids draw all day long, Jeff draws, people in ministry draw, I just feel like I have a million pinpricks in me where love is supposed to be flowing out all day long all the time and I just get so tired and EMPTY and so instead of giving love anymore I decide to just keep going forward but without giving true love. And that, is a WASTE. That will give me a wasted life.
And how arrogant of me to think that I am supposed to be the source of anyone’s love! And if I’m empty it’s no one’s fault but me because I am connected to the OCEAN of love, THE source of love and if I’m empty then it’s because I’m not drawing from the source! It’s no one’s fault but my own. Yes, there are many things that draw from my love stores, but what a privilege to be a sponge wrung out (to use Joel’s illustration) for God’s glory. Oh that we would be sponges wrung out! But my pride and stubborness insists on just wringing and wringing and wringing and then complaining that I’m being wrung out–somethings wrong. I need to turn on the faucet, sit at His feet, receive His love, and then allow Him to wring me out as He pleases.
I hear Dutch stirring, so although I don’t have a neat little way to tie up this post with a bow–I need to go love my son. 🙂 My son, who — and this is part of this week’s story — has already TWICE managed to smear poop all over the carpet and walls of his new room. 😉 What a perfect reminder that stuff is just stuff. So I’m off to love, by GOd’s grace. I pray we won’t waste our lives, but will love. If that’s all we do, let’s love.
Preparing by Faith
Just a little tidbit. God has been showing me today that way too often I prepare based on fear, insead of based on faith. To speak, to take a test, to have a meeting, to teach, to meet someone. I can prepare based on faith: “I trust you are going to work mightily God and so I spend this time with you to get every little tidbit I can because YOU are going to show up!” or based on fear: “Oh dear I’m scared out of my wits so I better study study study and prepare all I can because I’m so scared that I”ll fall on my face!” One’s faith, one’s fear. Same behavior, totally different heart.
How do you prepare? How do I prepare. Praying for grace to prepare by faith.
Where I'm at
I know, I ended the title with a preposition. The titles name themselves, and they’re totally unruly and refuse to give me any say whatsoever, so they are what they are. Anybody else ever feel like that with writing? I’m telling you, words are crazy and they stomp their feet and do what they want, despite me. Anyway, back to where I’m at…
Do you ever just feel profoundly inadequate? I don’t mean the little like, “Oh I’ll need to trust God a little bit here.” I mean, “Oh Lord what on earth were you thinking by putting me here making me feel this weak? You outta your mind?!” And of course he’s not because Scripture tells us, “We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” I’ve been calling this to mind tonight, and decided to go ahead and lean right back into the whole chapter, laying my head back into its truth, resting in the comfort of the assurance of God’s power. Will you rest here with me?
2 Corinthians 4
1Therefore, since through God’s mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart. 2Rather, we have renounced secret and shameful ways; we do not use deception, nor do we distort the word of God. On the contrary, by setting forth the truth plainly we commend ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God. 3And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. 4The god of this age has blinded the minds of unbelievers, so that they cannot see the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. 5For we do not preach ourselves, but Jesus Christ as Lord, and ourselves as your servants for Jesus’ sake. 6For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,”[a]made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.7But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 11For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. 12So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.
13It is written: “I believed; therefore I have spoken.”[b]With that same spirit of faith we also believe and therefore speak, 14because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you in his presence. 15All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God.
16Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. 17For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 18So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
Rest in that tonight. That’s where I’m at.
Drifting to sleep thoughts?
What is the last thing you think about as you lie in bed at night? What do you think about and pray about as you lie there, closed eyes? As you drift to sleep…
I’m curious.
The Way We Paint
I don’t paint, draw, or do anything very artistic for that matter. I love to write but I’m not much of an artistic, creative writer type of person. I’m not very good with long flowery descriptions, and I’m horrible with dialogue. In other words, I’m not actually that good of a writer 🙂 … but I just love to write. So I stick with what I can do and that is this. I love to tell stories with lessons.
I love stories. Life is story. God’s Word is a tremendous adventure, the story of stories, the most majestic tale of love, loss, tragedy and victory that ever was told. And in God’s Word, He pulls no punches. He tells it like it is. And I love that. I love truth, love to see God’s super natural power intersecting our daily lives. And, well, I just love to tell stories.
I am aware that this probably annoys some people. Because I tend to think that everything is a fun story. So, I will tell about an odd encounter at the grocery store as if it were headline news. My dad is the same way. He can turn the stupidest event into a story and somehow make people listen. And, interestingly enough, I can already see this in my son. Everything is a larger-than-life adventure to him.
So while there’s nothing wrong with telling stories, I’ve been thinking lately about the weighty significance of how we tell them. For example, a few things recently have made me realize, Wow–there are definitely two sides to every story! So let’s say we have an event. There are two people involved, person A and person B. Person A sees it from her perspective, person B sees it from his perspective. They disagree. Then, here’s the scary part. Person A tells the story to another person, person C–and she emphasizes that part that she wants to emphasize. It’s still the truth, but it’s dramatized from her perspective. So now it’s interpreted by person C as a major mistreatment of person A. Now person B tells the story to another person, person D from his perspective, but heightened emphasizing the part that he wants to emphasize. Now person D interprets based on this heightened story, and it seems a major mistreatment of person B.
What’s scary is that this happens all the time. Every single time we say something, we paint a picture. We paint pictures of each other, of circumstances, of events, of stories. We go around, all day long, every day, painting pictures. We use our words to paint: We paint those we don’t care for as villains, we paint ourselves as saints, we paint our spouses as one or the other based on what day it is :).
And what this all boils down to is humility. We paint the way we do because of either pride or humility. Humility chooses to paint others with strokes of grace, highlighting beauty and diminishing blemishes.
For example, Our Creative Director recently took a picture of Joy and me for our church website. I kind of joked when he was taking our photos that I wanted him to use whatever lens he had that would erase my big surgery incision scar on my cheek :). I was half-joking, but when he posted the picture, somehow you couldn’t even see my scar! Let me tell you how thankful I am that he is a gracious photographer and chose the picture that had the lighting just right (or maybe he used photoshop!). It’s not that I wanted him to create a false picture, but I sure appreciated that he chose to “paint” our picture in a way that was gracious, a way that showed us in a positive light. That’s why good photographers don’t take pictures in direct, blinding sunlight. They take photos in “gracious light” so to speak.
We reveal our pride or our humility by the way we describe those who believe differently than we do. “They have whacked-out views” reveals pride. “They believe a little differently than we do in this area” reveals humility.
So all this to say that where God convicted me in this area was in regards to my story about our adventure in San Jose. I told the story from my perspective. And it was true–all of it was absolutely true, right, accurate to the best of my knowledge. But it would also be true, right, accurate of our Creative Director to post a picture of me squinting miserably in the bright sunlight, with this lens focused tightly in on the bright red incision on my cheek. He could have really been cruel and had me sit and then taken the picture from a perspective that made my thighs look as big as tractor trailers (don’t you hate those pictures?). That would still have been true, right, accurate … but not exactly gracious.
The pastor that made some decisions that caused us pain is human. Just like me. I’m pretty sure I’ve made more stupid decisions that he has. I’m pretty sure I don’t want other people to write about my stupid decisions, immortalizing them for all time. God’s Word says that “Love covers over a multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:8). When we paint with love, we paint in a way that is true, right, accurate, but tinted by the beautiful color of love. We dip our brush into the dye of grace and choose to add an extra hue of forbearance, of humility, of charity. Whether we’re painting our spouse, our best friend, the church across town, or the person who wronged us, we choose to paint with love. We choose to immortalize a picture of them that they would thank us for.
So I’m editing my story. I think it still has value, and I think God still wants to use our adventure. But by His grace I’m a different girl than I was two years ago when I wrote it. And certainly different than I was five years ago when I lived it. I pray, I plead that God would make me a woman who paints with love, who paints with grace, who chooses to always describe people and situations with words that the other person would thank me for. It sounds funny but when I was praying to God about how this works, about how to describe things and situations fairly, it was impressed on my heart, “Paint them the way their mother would.” Wow. That settles it. No one has eyes of love for my kids more than me.
Do you know that this is what Christ has done for us? He has painted us for the Father. His sacrifice has once and for all painted us with the gracious strokes of forgiveness. His blood painted our picture–creating a masterpiece as perfect as Christ Himself. He chose to die that we might be painted in a perfect way. This is love.
Lord increase our love. Teach us by your spirit. Lead us in humility. Help us in the way we paint.
The Blessing of Frustration
I wrote last about God’s seemingly special attention to me lately in the area of humility–specifically in my desperate need for it. The Message’s rendition of Proverbs 14 summed up this lesson so well, “Nor is glory piled on glory good for you.” Some failures apparently are good, the verse is saying, and in an abstract cerebral sort of way I believed that. But now I believe it experientially. I know it.
Friday and Saturday were, for me, one long frustration. I have another blog post that arose out of Friday’s frustration (What’s In Your Hand?), but suffice it to say that for some reason Friday and Saturday, nothing was going right. You know those days where you just feel like no matter what step you take, it was the wrong one? You go one direction just to then realize you “should” have gone the other direction. You make a huge effort to do one thing, just to have it fall apart? The story is too long to tell, but suffice it to say I managed to get stuck in every traffic jam there was between North Portland and Corvallis, and ended up traveling 2 1/2 hours Saturday afternoon only to arrive in Corvallis at a wedding and realize I had gotten the time wrong…and missed the entire thing. Oh yes. It was one of those days. But this was only after I’d been lost multiple times, stuck in a traffic jam, my phone battery died, I missed a doctor’s appointment, missed a date with a friend, then arrived to find Heidi having pooped all the way through her dress, all over her carseat (and me)…By the time we got home at 9pm (I even got stuck in a traffic jam at 8:00 at night! What?!), I was shaking my head wondering what was going on. As I recounted my adventure to Jeff last night I said, “Something has got to be wrong in my life because this is ridiculous.”
I was half-joking. I know that traffic jams happen. I know that people get times mixed up and miss things. Babies poop. I know. But for some reason, there was an exceeding amount of frustration in my life and it was just enough to make me stop.
Frustration stops us.
So I made some tea, put Heidi to bed, and sat with God. One of my favorite psalms (139) ran through my head:
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.
This is a prayer I often pray but seldom like to see answered. I mean, who really wants God to seek out an offensive way in us? This is like welcoming a guest into your seemingly spotless house and saying, “Would you mind coming upstairs with me? I’d really like you come see the disgusting filth in the toilet of our master bedroom.” Who wants to see that stuff? It’s offensive! And yet the psalmist is asking God to see it. See the offensive stuff. Why? Because then, we can be led in the way everlasting. Because, as 1 Tim 1:9 says, 9″If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” Because He purifies it! Because, unlike your houseguest you will be grossed out by your filth and probably leave, God reaches down and cleans the filth for you. And He’s the only one powerful enough to do it completely.
So I did pray it. And He did answer it. And He did it like only He can do. Where my heart was grieved. Where today, during communion, I almost didn’t take the bread and juice–like I knew exactly how the tax collector felt in Luke 18, praying and beating his chest in the temple, saying “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Do you ever feel like that? Like all along you had this yuckiness in your life and you didn’t even know?! And then God moves things around and it shows and it’s like, “What?! Really? Ugh!” I remember Dutch had this sippy cup he used all the time. And because he never drank juice or milk, only water, I always just rinsed it out and kept using it. Then finally I took out the little stopper thing inside the lid and was horrified to realize that it was all moldly inside the stopper. Sick! All this time it had been there and I didn’t even know it! And all this time it’d be affecting my dear little son and I didn’t even know! That’s how I felt. All this time I have a yucky moldy area on my heart. And I’m thankful for God to reveal the “offensive way in me” but it sure is offensive!
By the way, in case you’re afraid that I’m a secret serial killer or something, I’m not. It’s just pride. God was showing me the pride that’s in my heart in the way that I tell stories, the way that I portray things. Maybe that seems small, but there’s so much more to it–it’s so sad to realize the way that even my writing, my wanting to glorify God through stories and lessons, how it’s tainted with wanting to glorify myself. I’ll share more in a post The Way We Paint, but just to set your mind at rest, that’s what God was showing me.
So all this to say that I do think that glory piled on glory is not good for me. Frustration is good because it makes me stop. When things are gliding along perfectly I rarely stop long enough to pray the scary prayer of Psalm 139. And while the prayer may be scary, I’m thankful that God leads us in the way everlasting. He’s good, gentle, faithful. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9 Thank you, God, for the blessing of frustration.